The Jeans
by myInfirmary
Summary: A short fic on why Ichabod finally accepts skinny jeans. It is Ichabod & Katrina, because that's how it came to me (I'm sorry). I always say to not expect much, so do the same here.


'Sooner or later she'll have to get out of that dress. Why not sooner?'

'Absolutely not!'

'I get that you're her husband, but when did you become her choice maker? Let's ask Katrina what she wants.'

He didn't win that battle. Katrina sided with Abbie about adjusting into the new century, and moving out of the dress that was centuries old and Purgatory-worn. That the two women went out 'shopping' without him, didn't please him one bit.

He trusts Abbie with all he has, except for one thing. He doesn't trust her with the art of purchase. Her opinions of 'good', 'healthy' and 'cheap' are far too different from his own.

Every hour that passes, he grows more worried, the thoughts that sneak into his head do not help decrease his worries either. What if his wife walks into the station resembling the women of this century, with all their shockingly revealing garments? Or worse, in those ghastly skinny jeans? Nothing would displease him more than seeing his wife conforming to the clothing evil of the current century.

'We're back!' Abbie announces. The sound of her voice brings him from the chair in a spring. Three hours, he decides, is too long a time to spend sitting on a hard chair, because he cannot feel his rear-end.

She's all he sees, he can't see Katrina, he can't make out who this 'we' is. Where on earth has she left Katrina?

'Where's Katrina?' he asks with a frown. It's bad enough that Abbie took Katrina from his presence for a lengthy amount of time, but to return without her?

'And I missed you too Crane,' she makes a caustic remark.

'My apologies,' he opens his hands before her, 'I was deeply worried.'

Abbie looks at him with her 'too busy to mind you' face, 'Whatever. Here,' she hands him a paper bag, 'we brought you peanuts. Katrina sad you love them. I didn't know you liked peanuts.'

'You never asked,' he says to her. He does indeed like peanuts, it's just in this moment, more than he wants to have the peanuts, he wants to make sure his wife is in one piece after the 'shopping'. He doesn't look into the bag, his wife is who he wants.

'Where is Katrina?' he asks again.

'Calm down,' Abbie suggests, 'I didn't kill her. She's in the toilet. Now please move from my desk.' Ichabod slowly moves out from her small desk, a little reluctantly, because he hasn't exactly not 'touched' anything as she instructed before she left. Unsurprisingly, Abbie can tell his failure to follow instructions just by watching him.

Her eyes narrow at him, 'What did you do?'

He opens his mouth to protest against her lack of trust in him concerning simple things, when he sees Katrina coming to the swing door. She offers him a warm smile, which he only returns for the relief that has come over him. He can't completely relax until he knows she isn't half naked for the world to see.

'Really Crane,' Abbie says looking at him, 'what did you think I did to Katrina? You'd swear I kidnapped her, the way you're relieved to see her.'

'I thought nothing of the kind,' he tells her, his eyes not leaving Katrina for a second. She passes through the swing door, and he forgets he's talking to Abbie.

Katrina is a vision.

The blouse she is wearing is a wonderful shade on her, not only that, it clings to her as though she's not wearing it, but that it's her skin. It convexes and concaves around her in the appropriate places, clearly outlining her feminine features. The soft-looking humps of her breasts are very pronounced by the blouse. It's as though he's seeing her completely naked, only fully dressed. How delightful. And how the flatness of her pale stomach (that is knowledge for him alone) is defined by the blouse.

'Ichabod?' Katrina calls him.

Ichabod doesn't notice that he's swallowed twice already. Only that-now that Katrina has gotten his attention-he hasn't spoken to Katrina since she entered.

'Yes?' he stammers, feeling ashamed for staring so openly.

'What is the matter? You do not approve of my garment? I can change if you wish.' Katrina sounds disappointed, he notes, she must've liked what Abbie picked out for her. With good reason, he thinks quickly. The skinny jeans she has on do no less than undress her. He wants to always see her this way. Every part of her lower half is given the chance to stand out. From her waist, to her perfect calves. There has been no invention better than skinny jeans, because when he imagines seeing Katrina this way all day, he can't think of anything better.

'No!' he rasps quickly.

'You don't like them?' Katrina asks him.

'Does this mean we take the rest of the stuff back too? That sucks.' Abbie complains.

'No,' he corrects himself, 'I mean no, do not take anything back. Do not change Katrina. You look...' he searches his mind for the precise word, but it doesn't come, he settles instead for, 'lovely.'

She doesn't look lovely, he lied, she surpasses lovely, but the word isn't coming to him, at least not in polite-in-front-of-other-people terms.

Katrina smiles, exchanging looks with Abbie,'Oh, thank you.'

'I guess the skinnys don't bother you anymore, do they?' Abbie lightly swats his arm, and he gets the feeling she knows just how he feels looking at them on Katrina.

'No so much,' he replies, because if they ever do bother him, he could always remove them off Katrina himself.


End file.
